Harry Potter and the Light at Lantern Waste
by jandl
Summary: A missing chapter from HP and Philosopher's Stone.  The light has gone out at Lantern Waste, and Aslan needs Harry to restore hope to Narnia, as well as restore Harry's hope for himself.
1. Harry and the Looking Glass

**Disclaimer:** The world of Narnia and its characters comes from the immortal, genius mind of C.S. Lewis and not my significantly inferior one, and the rights to its literature belong to HarperTrophy, which is a division of HarperCollins Publishers. Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling, and to Bloomsbury Publishing in the U.K. and to Scholastic Publishing in the U.S. Since I am none of these people or companies, I own nothing.

**A/N:** Okay, so some explanation as to when this all occurs. In the Harry Potter universe, this takes place during _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, right after the chapter "The Mirror of Erised," and is meant to be seen as a missing chapter in the story. In Narnia time, this story takes place after _The Magician's Nephew_, but before _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe._ As to why Harry can be in a time period of Narnia from before the Pevensies got there, just acknowledge the fact that Aslan is beyond human time and can pull people from any time period he wishes should he deem them worthy enough. And well, Aslan has an important lesson for Harry to learn and he has just the mission to do it, but Narnia still has to be in existence for that to work.

I've been writing this story in my head for six years, and it has morphed somewhat over time from its original idea. Hopefully, the changes I've made to it as I've matured will make this story seem better than most HP/Narnia crossovers and not worse. I leave you to be the judge. I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think!

**Harry Potter and the Light at Lantern Waste**

Part 1: Harry and the Looking Glass

When Harry awoke the next morning, he did so with the firm vow that he would not go looking for the Mirror of Erised again. In fact, a part of Harry would have been quite happy to never see any sort of mirror for a time. To look in a mirror and see not only yourself staring back at you, but to see images of people you've always loved yet never had seen, hurt in a way he knew he could never describe to anyone - not even Ron or Hermione. He feared if he glanced in a mirror, he would break - either from the knowledge that he lacked self-will and had looked for the Mirror again, despite his promise to Dumbledore (whom he trusted above all else), or from disappointment at not seeing his parents and family behind his image. Seeing them had fulfilled a longing that he had always been aware of, but of an extent to which he had never known. Three nights of feeling the closest to complete he had ever been, and it had all been snatched away. He had seen the embodiment of his greatest wish, and it had turned out to be a lie. Dumbledore had shown Harry the truth, and while Harry accepted that truth, he still ached with the knowledge of it.

However, it was less than an hour later when that vow was tested, and it could not really be laid down as being a fault of Harry's. It all transpired as he was walking down to breakfast in the Great Hall, Ron and the other Weasley brothers having gone down half an hour previously. Harry, despite his efforts to not clue Ron in on his nighttime wandering the evening before, had been morose upon Ron trying to wake him up. Ron had known better than to inquire as to the reason behind Harry's state of slight distress and had merely told Harry he would meet him in the Great Hall later, should Harry wish to get up at any point of the morning. Harry had remained reclining on his four poster for about twenty minutes longer, torn between wallowing in some well-earned self pity and putting on a fake smiling face for his closest friends. The latter had eventually won out, for despite his sadness at the thought of no longer seeing his parents, Harry could not forget the advice Dumbledore had given him: "_It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live._" The real world was calling to him, and Harry felt he had little choice but to answer.

He had been about halfway to the Great Hall, about to take one of the main staircases, when he noticed that the staircases had changed again. He did not even dignify this change with a huff of annoyance, as this was hardly something unexpected, and while a hassle when one was late for class, it was hardly the highest point of contention for Harry Potter on this particular morning. Harry, as he usually did when the staircases made such a change, got off on the next corridor and looked around to see where the change had landed him so that he could have some idea of what corridor to take and get to the Great Hall and hopefully at least have time for a glass of orangeade and some toast before heading outside for yet another snowball fight with the Weasleys. He glanced around and saw that he was on the corridor that had all the professor's offices and the professor's lounge. He gave a slight nod to himself as he decided where to go from there and felt the slightest bit relieved. At least the staircase had led him to a place he knew multiple ways out of and hadn't deposited him on the third floor corridor or some other similar place that was forbidden for students (as Harry knew that with his luck he would get caught by a professor and then get in trouble, despite the fact that he had no choice whether or not to be there). Harry turned possible exit points and shortcuts through his mind before finally deciding to try out the staircase on the opposite end of the hall, which would lead him down directly to the main entrance way in front of the Great Hall.

He was halfway down the corridor, next to the professor's lounge, before he allowed himself to notice it. There, standing next to the wall on the right hand side, right outside the door of the lounge, was a large looking glass. It looked to be about four feet in height and three feet in width, the sort that one often finds on the inside of a wardrobe, and it was rather unimposing upon first glance. It was the woodwork that first caught Harry's eye; it had fauns and tree spirits and centaurs and other such magical creatures that Harry had always, until recently, considered to be mere fancy etched along into the wood. But it was the top piece that was truly breathtaking. It rose up into a large crest in the center and had a large Sun etched into it with a lion's head in the center of the Sun. The longer Harry looked at it, the more awed he was. Why, it almost looked as though the lion's mane was gleaming! But that was impossible! Absurd! As Harry stared, he could have sworn that it looked as though the lion were moving, about to open its mouth and let out a mighty roar. Harry instinctively covered his ears and closed his eyes. He waited. There was nothing. He lowered his hands and opened his eyes and the mirror frame was back to how it had been before - the lion's mouth was closed and the mane was a mere set of lines etched in the wood. But something had changed - something very important. The looking glass, which mere seconds before had shown Harry and the opposite wall of the corridor in its reflection, now was showing a world the likes of which Harry had never seen. Harry took a step back in shock.

He stood in the corridor, fidgeting slightly while he thought, nervously playing with the handle of his wand. Harry did not consider himself the smartest of eleven year olds by any means (he knew that would be Hermione, who was probably smarter than even some adults he knew), but even he felt himself smart enough to know all the reasons he should not step close to the looking glass. Harry Potter had only been in the wizarding world for four months, but even that short an amount of time was enough for him to know that it was foolish for one to touch a mirror when the glass shimmered or showed a world in which the viewer was not standing. After all, the mirror's glass could be cursed with some weird sort of poison that came through the skin when the viewer touched it. Or, if it wasn't poisoned and was in fact a portal to another world, how could one know if that world was safe or if there was any way to return to the original place? Harry shook his head. No, getting close to the mirror would be a hazardous idea - begging for trouble - and a stupid move at that. Regardless, when Harry went to turn away from the mirror and continue his trek down the corridor, he found that he had stepped closer to the mirror in his musings, his fingers already reaching forward to touch the glass. He quickly jerked his arm back, cursing it for its lack of co-operation.

He thought through the problem again. The mirror was standing in the corridor, rolled out so that it slightly slanted away from the wall, making the viewer see his or her self as they walked down the corridor. It was almost as though someone had been in the process of moving the mirror from the professor's lounge and had been called away and meant to come back for it later. But, with Harry and his all-too-near-to-be-forgotten experience with the Mirror of Erised still fresh in his hurting mind, he could not help but think that there was devious play at work. Things around Hogwarts were never just "left out" and forgotten - that was too dangerous in a world with cursed objects and with trickster students like Fred and George Weasley constantly underfoot. Harry firmly told himself that the cards were stacked in a too dangerous position to continue playing any further. He needed to turn around and walk away from the mirror and the dark, snowy, beautiful landscape it was showing. It was too bad for Harry that his feet refused to co-operate with his brain.

Harry continued to stand there, despite his best intentions, and fought a war between reason and curiousity that reason was quickly losing. After a few minutes, Harry no longer merely saw the world in the looking glass, but he could also feel the chill of the cool, night air. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders a little tighter, thankful that he had dressed for that snowball fight he was planning with the Weasleys. He then felt a slightly different sort of wind right next to his ear. For the briefest of seconds, he thought it was Peeves or possibly Nearly Headless Nick or one of the other Hogwarts ghosts, but then he noted that it felt different - warm as opposed to the cold feeling he usually got from the ghosts. In fact, it rather felt like a breath. He quickly turned his head and gave a shout when he saw a lion standing in the Hogwarts corridor, feeling his feet trip him closer to the mirror. Harry tried to quickly reason out the best method of escaping and for telling the professors that there was somehow a lion loose in the castle (and despite the fact that strange things were a usual occurrence at his school, Harry couldn't help but think that even the professors would raise their eyebrows in incredulity at his announcement). But alas! for poor Harry, the lion stood at the end of the corridor he was trying to reach and the stairway behind him still had not changed position to where it needed to be for him to reach the Great Hall. Harry felt his knobbly knees tremble at the thought that after everything he had survived - Voldemort's attack, the troll at Hallowe'en, Fluffy the three-headed dog - he was about to be eaten alive by a lion on the corridor of professor's offices. At least it would make an interesting story for his fellow Gryffindors.

But, to Harry's great surprise, the lion made no motion to come nearer to him. It merely stood there at the end of the corridor, flicking its tail and looking for all intents and purposes like the mascot that hung on the Gryffindor House flag. Then, just as Harry had begun to breathe somewhat normally again and try to rationalise his way out of the situation, the lion gave an almighty roar. It rumbled the whole castle - the doors jostled in their frames, the windows rattled, and Harry heard potion phials fall off the shelves in the professor's lounge, as well as some books topple over from the general vicinity of Professor Flitwick's office (Harry briefly hoped that Flitwick hadn't been standing on them at the time) - and Harry found himself grabbing onto the looking glass frame to maintain his balance. In doing so, he found himself face-to-face with that beautiful world again. And just as strongly as his reason had told him to walk away, the more insistent part of him urged him on - the same voice that spoke up when he had heard the name Nicolas Flamel, when he first realised that Fluffy was guarding something, when he had seen the Mirror of Erised - the urge to know, to _understand_. The urge was almost more than he could bear - it was practically calling to him from the depths of his very soul. He had the urge to let go of that frame and fall, to see if that world was real.

The lion roared again, just as loud and just as terribly as before - yes, terribly, for as beautiful and majestic as the sound appeared, it was yet even more frightening. And with that second roar - whether it was to satisfy that urge and that curiosity or because he truly could not hold on a second longer, Harry didn't know - Harry fell into the looking glass. It wasn't until he stood in a darkened glade, trees all around him with darkness and snow as far as the eye could see, that Harry allowed himself to wonder how he would explain the adventure to his professors (and by extension Ron and Hermione) this time.


	2. The Darkened Woods

**Disclaimer**: see previous chapter.

**Dedicated to: **my good friend jadereader on LiveJournal.

**A/N**: I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO UPDATE. My laptop, which has all my writing on it, completely died. It wouldn't even start. And while I had all my information saved on an external, that didn't do me any good until I could get my information back onto a laptop that worked. It took a VERY long time, but my laptop is working again, and I apologise profusely for the long wait. It shouldn't be so long a wait again, though it will be a couple of weeks because I leave in two days for Germany, and I'll be there for about two whole weeks. But, I hope you enjoy the chapter and I am so, so sorry that it took so long.

Thanks so much for the kind reception to the first chapter; I didn't expect so much love for this story. Really, everyone. THANK YOU.

**THE DARKENED WOODS**

Harry spent the first few minutes of his time in an unknown area staring around him in wonder, trying to pin point if he was even anywhere in the United Kingdom anymore. Despite the fact that the woods around him could have been any forest in his native island, he could not help but feel that he was nowhere within his own dimension any longer. He could not explain it in words, but the very air itself felt different in the forest - he felt lighter, more robust, and the only feeling he could equate it to was how he felt when he was flying. He suddenly felt so energetic that he could have run up every staircase at Hogwarts and still had energy left over for a Quidditch practice.

In addition to the sudden burst of energy, Harry found himself spellbound. The trees were taller even than the ones that lined the edge of the Forbidden Forest. And even though the wind was not blowing, Harry could hear a distinct sound amongst the trees, as though they were whispering to each other. This gave him a slightly mixed feeling of both intrigue and slight wariness. Harry had learnt in Herbology that plants had not only functions, but personality, and who was to say whether these trees were friendly or dangerous? Harry decided that until he could find out where he was and how he could possibly get back to Hogwarts, he had best watch what he said, even if he was only speaking to himself.

After the first few minutes of exploring what little he could see, Harry noticed three things that took up full place in his mind.

His first thought, and his most fleeting, was that he was hungry. His second, more dire thought was that he was freezing. While his Hogwarts robes and his cloak were enchanted by Madame Malkin with a basic heating spell, Harry could still feel the cold seeping into his bones. He had never felt a chill like this before - almost supernatural in origin, and unrelenting in its grip. Harry desperately wished he had gotten Hermione to teach him the spell she found that made it so one could carry fire around in a jar - he had no idea how long he would be in this place, where ever he was - and he had no desire to freeze to death. Unfortunately, she had not shared that secret with him and he decided he would just have to keep moving and hope the constant motion kept him warm, or that he found a kind stranger that would help.

But his thoughts on the fire spell did bring his mind around to something that would help him in his situation - his third thought. He suddenly remembered his wand, forgotten as it had been in his excitement of the initial exploration of his new unknown world. He reached inside his robes and pulled out the object that was quickly becoming an extension of his appendages. He quietly murmured "_Lumos,_" and held the wand high above his head in order to see more of the world he had landed in.

There was not much for him to see. Stretching as far as he could see in all directions were tall trees - evergreens, capped in snow inches deep. Anything that was not an evergreen had died long ago and was now made up of grey, withered branches that Harry was hesitant to step under or touch for fear that the trees would topple over. The ground was covered with snow, and the air was spotted with falling flakes. There was no obvious disturbance in the air to mark the place Harry had originally fallen through, and though Harry was disappointed by this knowledge, he was not surprised. The only noticeable landmarks were two hills in the far distance that could just barely be seen above the trees, and about 30 yards in front of Harry, just barely visible through the maze of trees, was a steel lamppost.

Harry approached it, his feet crunching loudly in the snow. The snow was deep, going well over his ankles, and it took Harry far longer than he had anticipated to reach the lamppost. He placed one trembling, slightly frozen hand against the iced over metal and leaned against it, closing his eyes. The lamppost filled Harry with a strange sort of comfort, for though it was strangely placed, it was a slice of home in a foreign world. It looked no different than the lampposts he had seen every day of his life outside of 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging. The only downside was that there was no light at the top. Not that Harry needed it; he had his wand after all, but it seemed unnatural somehow for the light in the lantern to be missing. No, not just unnatural. Wrong.

Harry stared at the lantern and felt the first tendrils of fear wrap themselves around his spine. He was alone, and he was in the dark, and the lack of light was _wrong_ and he did not like that he seemed to understand these things without having any way of knowing it. And worst of all, he did not know the way home. Harry felt completely alone suddenly - less like a young, exploring wizard and more like a boy in clothes too large for him, just finding his way out from the cupboard-under-the-stairs for the first time.

Harry stepped back from the lamppost and stared out into the darkness, his breathing harsh and rising up before him in a mist. He wrung his hands together, the motion causing the light at the end of his wand to make strange designs in the air and over the snow. Harry suddenly noted that his toes were numb and his fingers were turning blue. Harry wasn't sure what to do - should he pray? Try to find that lion, maybe? After all, it was that lion's roar that had caused this whole fiasco in the first place and the lion he saw resembled the one on the looking glass frame. Was it even possible to tell one lion from another? '_You really thought this one through, didn't you, Potter?'_ Harry thought to himself.

Suddenly, just as Harry was about to go into a full blown panic, he heard the repetitious crunching of snow - footsteps! Harry clung to the lamppost, trying to wait until the bearer of the footsteps came into view and hoped he would be able to tell if the stranger was friend or foe. Harry had always considered himself a good judge of character, and if the person turned out to be foe, Harry hoped that at the least he would be able to follow the stranger to some sort of civilisation.

The stranger turned out to be a faun, a fact that Harry would have been quite shocked at months before (not that he would have really known a faun had he seen one), and the faun seemed quite intent on getting somewhere. It was male with white fur, wearing a dark blue jacket over his torso, and in his arms was a large stack of books.

Harry stepped out from behind the dark lamppost and cleared his throat, hoping to catch the faun's attention without scaring it. He failed in that pursuit. Upon hearing the guttural sound, the faun jumped a good foot in the air, and the top half of the stack of books fell into the snow and a particularly large one landed on Harry's foot. It was a mark of how cold it was that Harry didn't even really feel it. In any case, he was too distracted by trying to calm down the surprised magical creature in front of him.

The faun, having recovered from the shock of such a loud sound in the normally silent forest, was staring at Harry with a somewhat clinical interest. He appeared as fascinated by Harry as Harry was by him. Harry took in the faun's face - he had curly, dark brown hair with little horns poking out from the crest of his head. His face was slightly rounded and creased with deep laugh lines around the eyes and mouth. His eyes, which were a dark brown that matched his hair, had an intelligent gleam in them, and there was a pipe bowl just visible from the top of the breast pocket in his blue coat. All in all, the faun gave off a distinctive grandfather vibe, with professor overtones. Harry was reminded of Professor Dumbledore and something inside of him relaxed, trusting the faun almost on instinct. Harry suddenly realised he was staring and bent down to gather the fallen items.

"So sorry," Harry mumbled, his speech hindered slightly by chattering teeth. "I didn't mean to frighten you, but I'm a bit lost and I could really use the help. If you could just point me in the right direction." Harry was stacking up the books back in the faun's arms, the faun merely blinking at him and listening to Harry's ramble with a more-than-slightly flabbergasted expression. The faun shook his head slightly, as though drawing himself out of a trance.

"Are you-" the faun started hesitantly, his voice deep and nowhere near as old and raspy as Harry had expected it to be, "Pardon me, but are you a human?"

Harry suddenly realised that maybe the reason the faun had been staring so intently at him was that Harry was probably as mythical a creature to the faun as a faun was to most muggleborns. "Why yes," Harry answered, flexing his toes and his thighs on the off chance that he may need to break into a run. "Is that...bad?"

The faun suddenly smiled. "Oh no! Why, that is very good! I never thought I'd be lucky enough to meet a human!" The faun dropped the books (one of which landed on Harry's foot once again) and grabbed Harry's hand, vigorously shaking it. "My name is Tumnus - Reginald Tumnus! Oh, it's so nice to meet you! We haven't had any humans here since -" The faun's voice suddenly died out and he stepped close to Harry, his eyes widening as he gripped Harry's shoulders in a suddenly urgent grip. "You haven't spoken to anyone else since you arrived here, have you? None of the birds or the squirrels or the badgers?"

At any other time, Harry would have found such a question to be ridiculous. But Mr Tumnus looked so worried and afraid, that even though Harry was confused and slightly out of phase with his current situation, he answered truthfully. "No, I haven't even seen anyone until you showed up."

Reginald Tumnus's shoulders sagged in visible relief, and he bent down and started recollecting the now twice-fallen books. Harry bent down to assist, his frozen hands briefly brushing Tumnus's as he placed a couple of rather large tomes on top. Tumnus stared at Harry for a few seconds, and nodded to himself, apparently coming to some sort of decision.

"Why, you're freezing out here, young boy! And right you should be, as little as you're wearing! Thin robes and cloaks are no match for enchanted winter, my boy! I insist you come with me and warm yourself by my fire. My wife makes a marvelous tea, and you look to be skin and bones. You can explain to me how you came to be lost, and I'll see what I can do about finding you the way home, yes?" Tumnus's eyes pierced through the darkness at Harry's, his eyes gesturing slightly towards the side at the trees. Harry suddenly understood him. Mr Tumnus wanted to ask some questions (and explain his earlier statement about the lack of humans, Harry hoped), and Tumnus didn't trust that they were truly alone.

Harry briefly considered the offer. He did not know Mr Tumnus at all, and he knew if Hermione was there that she would be telling him that it was reckless to run off with a stranger. But Harry was freezing - his fingers and toes moving past numbness and into pain - and he was hungry, and there was something about Tumnus that told Harry to trust him. Harry decided he would just have to be selective about what he told Tumnus until he was more sure of him, but he really had no time to sit about debating the situation with himself.

"Thank you," Harry said, nodding his head, his teeth chattering. Mr Tumnus beamed at him.

"Wow! Tea with a human. Won't that be quite the story to tell my kid when it's born!"

Harry quietly murmured "_Nox_," turning off the light at the end of his wand and slipped his wand deftly back into the pocket of his robes. Mr Tumnus was so busy trying to re-arrange his books that he didn't notice. Harry then grabbed a few of the larger tomes off the top, freeing up Mr Tumnus's line of vision. With a small smile of thanks, Tumnus led the way into the dark forest, and Harry followed behind, slightly apprehensive, but hopeful that he could soon have the answers he was searching for about this enchanted winter wonderland.


	3. Tea With Tumnus

**Disclaimer: **see previous chapters.

**A/N: **Once again, sorry for the long wait. Life is getting a hold of me, and my muse keeps getting distracted by other fandoms. I've written you a much longer chapter than the previous two in recompense. I've glanced over this chapter about ten times in the last two days, so hopefully any mistakes are unnoticeable. I have no beta, so if there are mistakes, it's entirely my fault. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3: Tea with Tumnus**

The trek through the dark forest took about twenty minutes. In that time, Harry stood close to Tumnus, half listening to the faun's quick chatter, and the other half of his mind was focused on the deep blackness and the unknown entities that lurked within it. The world had looked so beautiful in the looking glass, so full of promise. The reality, though still beautiful, seemed to carry with it a dark history, a sad sense of portent. Just walking through the heavy snow, the unbreakable silence making the rasp of breath from Harry's throat and the nearly inaudible mutterings of Tumnus extremely loud and they seemed to echo. The very atmosphere gave Harry the feeling of being hunted, and he sensed that any amount of time he spent in the mystical world was not his own.

Harry's mind was called back to itself when he felt Tumnus pull on the end of his sleeve and Harry leaned down to allow the faun to whisper in his ear. "My house is just past these rocks. Now, the trees in these parts are particularly treacherous - not trusting of strangers at all, and they'll give your whereabouts to the wrong people. Make sure to be as quiet as possible. They won't find anything amiss if they only hear me; if they hear an unfamiliar tread, they'll send word for reconnaissance. We don't want that - that means the Secret Police and they have the best noses for foreigners that you'll ever meet."

Harry gave a nod as confirmation that he understood and focused on maintaining as quiet a tread as possible in snowy climate. He mainly tried as best as he could to step in Tumnus' previous steps at the same time that Tumnus stepped down further in front of Harry. It didn't work precisely as well as he had hoped, for Harry's feet were much larger than the faun's hooves, and Harry still managed to cause a much louder crunch of snow with every step than Tumnus tended to give off. But, it was the best Harry could do and Tumnus didn't seem to make any great show about it.

Still, Harry was relieved when he stepped over the threshold to the Tumnus household. He closed his eyes in bliss as he felt the warmth from the fire burning away on the hearth. Although the house was set inside a rock, and therefore there was an omnipresent dampness, it was quite cozy, especially compared with the enchanted freeze of the forest. His comfort was short-lived, for he soon felt the familiar prickling one feels when a numb portion of the body begins to re-acquire its feeling. Following that was the burning sensation in his toes of warmth suffusing his blood. Still, Harry decided he would rather be uncomfortable than back out in the cold. He was positive that if he had been out there much longer in his current garments, he would have frozen to death.

Around him, Mr Tumnus was hurriedly bustling, removing his coat and scarf and hanging them on the coat hooks near the door, and laying his massive stack of books on the side table. He then held his hand out to Harry and after a few seconds of cold-induced befuddlement, Harry realised that Tumnus wanted to hang up Harry's cloak. Harry quickly tucked his wand into his trouser pockets (thanking the cosmos for the first time ever that all he really owned were Dudley's hand-me-downs as they meant his pocket spaces were much deeper than most eleven year old boys'), and, smiling in thanks, handed his cloak to Tumnus. The faun gave the human boy a quick up and down glance, obviously trying to understand the outfit, which, Harry suddenly realised, probably seemed quite strange and impractical to his host. After all, underneath Harry's robes, he wore a thin white shirt, a red and white designed tie (Gryffindor pride always found its way into his wardrobe, and into the wardrobe of all of his fellow housemates), and black trousers that had the ends rolled up multiple times and were held up by a large buckle. The people at Hogwarts were quite used to seeing Harry dressed this way, but Harry accepted that it would appear strange to a person who had never been to Hogwarts or had never seen a human before. Harry gave an awkward smile and turned away from Tumnus and the door to take in the rest of his surroundings.

Directly on the other end of the room was the fire that was generating so much warmth, and kneeling in front of it, her furred-over legs bent onto the hearth and a long poker in her hand which was stoking the flames, was a female faun that Harry surmised to be Mrs Tumnus. Her fur was the same shade as her husband's - a light reddish brown that flattered her dark hair, which came down in soft waves to her mid-back.

"My dear Mrs Tumnus, we have a guest!" announced Mr Tumnus, bypassing Harry quickly and walking across the tiny room to stand by his wife, who was quickly rising from her haunches and turning to face Harry, who was standing awkwardly in the entryway. Harry, always slightly nervous upon introductions, stood quietly in place and awkwardly straightened his glasses, which had started to become lopsided on his nose over the last half hour of adventure. Mrs Tumnus merely studied Harry, much as her husband had done upon first meeting him. She then gave him a small smile and quickly placed down the fire poker before crossing the room. She put one arm around his shoulder and then used her other arm to reach around her middle and grab his closest hand, wordlessly ushering him towards some chairs in the centre of the room.

"Why, my poor boy, you're freezing! Come, have a seat by the fire!" urged Mrs Tumnus, her voice giving off a comforting, yet very quiet tone. From Mr Tumnus' skittishness out of doors, and the utmost secrecy with which he had been ushered into the fauns' household, Harry came to the conclusion that silence and quiet was a means of staying under the radar in this world, if not a complete means of survival. She placed Harry in a red armchair by the fire and took a matching armchair to the left of him.

"Yes, lad, you do look quite knackered! Why don't you speak up and give us your name? After all, we can't go on calling you 'lad' and 'boy' all the time. You'll blend in much better if you have a name. I don't know what the way is with humans - you may all be called 'Adam' or 'Eve' for all I know - but we Narnians always have names. If you don't have one, I can think up one to call you."

It was around this time that Harry realised that if he was to receive any information or, better yet, get help, he had best start sharing what little he did know of how he had turned up where ever he was. Harry leaned back in the armchair that Mrs Tumnus had set him in, and glanced up at Mr Tumnus who was now standing by the hearth, a pipe in his mouth and one arm leaning against the mantelpiece above the fire. It made the faun resemble a detective interrogating a witness/suspect, and Harry had to fight back an insane urge to laugh. If Harry really wanted to be truthful to himself, he felt he must soon laugh at something or he might just burst into hopeless tears. After all, he was in a world he had never heard of, with no known ways of returning to Hogwarts or even England, and apparently he was in danger from some sort of higher power of which he had never seen or heard mention of. He had never hated the Hogwarts Staircases, and their lousy timing for making switches, so much in his life.

Harry looked down at his lap and gave himself a brief moment to think. He could leave now - grab his cloak and leave - and hope for the best, and try and find a way home in the dark in silence. Or he could trust some complete strangers and speak up and answer their questions. He struggled for a few seconds over these options, and then remembered that Ron had at one point been a stranger as well. Harry had befriended him in what was, in reality, no more than an act of faith. Ron had shown one act of kindness, and Harry had loved him instantly for it. Mr Tumnus had done the same, and he had that distinct feeling to him that put Harry at ease. Harry decided to trust his gut and answered Tumnus.

"My name is Harry. Harry Potter."

"Must be a descriptive name," said Mrs Tumnus. "His fur really does seem to go everywhere at the top of his head."

Mr Tumnus nodded in solemn agreement, lighting his pipe with a lit twig from the fire. The room then began to fill with a sweet scent of something that was obviously meant to be this world's version of tobacco. Something about it made Harry's stomach growl loudly and he suddenly remembered that he had missed breakfast.

"By my hoof, what an absolutely horrible hostess I have been," announced Mrs Tumnus, springing from her seat and bustling to the left side of the room. Harry's eyes followed her briefly and took in the tea kettle sitting on what appeared to be a wood stove. He could see a bread box on a counter top to the side, as well as cupboards full of jars with jams and pickled foods. Harry was shocked at the _normalcy_ of it all. He had wondered at the mention of "food" whether or not he would be able to eat any of it. After all, goats normally ate hay and grass and such, and while Harry didn't totally detest what his Uncle Vernon usually termed "rabbit food," he didn't fancy eating grass. Fauns, in contradiction to goats, apparently ate the same as people.

"Would you like some tea, Harry?" asked Mrs Tumnus, turning to him with the tea kettle already well in hand. Harry's mouth started watering at the thought, and he nodded with a small, "Yes, please" whispered in tandem.

Mr Tumnus placed himself in the chair his wife had just vacated. He gave a small sigh and leaned forward in the chair, placing his elbows on his knees and puffing on his pipe in thought. Harry could tell from his posture that he was about to engage in what could be quite a lengthy conversation. Having decided to trust the fauns, he felt entirely at ease and allowed himself to relish the knowledge that he would not need to return to the cold for the next few hours at least.

"Now, young Harry. How about you tell us where you come from and we can start sorting out the means to get you back home. Are you a Tarkaan? Perhaps a Telmarine or a sailor from far across the Eastern Seas? How did you manage to make it to Narnia all on your own? And why would you want to?" Tumnus threw out all these questions with such speed that Harry had no chance to answer, and Harry was given the feeling that he wasn't meant to answer them. Rather, it seemed as though Tumnus had some idea of the truth of the matter and was merely trying to work himself up to it gradually. Harry decided that he would merely let Tumnus get there at whatever speed he could. After all, Harry could barely wrap his mind around the idea himself. At any rate, Harry now had some idea of where he was at least: Narnia. Not that he really knew where that was, and it didn't really tell him much more than he knew before. But it was something - all knowledge needs some sort of building block, after all.

"No, if you were a Tarkaan or even a Telmarine, you would never have attempted to come to Narnia. It's hardly a place many would want to venture to these days, though I suppose the real state of affairs is not really discussed in those foreign lands. Still, there is something so..._different_ about you. There's a sense of wonder in your face that no one has seen in Narnia since the Birth of the World and the First Reign of Plenty. Dear me. Forgive me, young Harry. How I prattle away! All these questions, and I haven't even allowed you time to answer. Why don't you take the time to explain while I work on this pipe a little, eh?" And with that, Tumnus stuck the pipe back in his mouth and leaned back in the chair; the personification of a listening professor.

"I fell here," answered Harry. He decided to keep it simple and leave Hogwarts as much as possible from the story. Even though he was certain magic wasn't unheard of here - he had heard Mr Tumnus call the winter 'enchanted' - he did not want to put his friends and world in any more potential danger than necessary. "I found this mirror, but it wasn't reflecting. It just showed me this world, and then I saw this - er - this _figure_ and I panicked and I just sort of...fell," Harry finished, swallowing slightly. He left the lion out of the narrative, feeling that it made the story even more unbelievable than it undoubtedly must seem to his hosts.

Mr Tumnus merely studied Harry and puffed some more on his pipe. Mrs Tumnus continued to move about the kitchen and Harry could hear the sounds of cupboards opening and closing, and he could smell the beginnings of what appeared to be muffins.

Harry broke the silence after a few moments of Tumnus' disconcerting staring. "You said that we're in Narnia. Where is Narnia?"

Tumnus removed his pipe and gesticulated around him. "_This_ is Narnia. Everything you see around you when you step out of those doors is our wonderful land. Far to the East is Cair Paravel - the castle that once housed our King and Queen for generations. But they died out years ago, and now the world is ruled by the White Witch, though her supporters call her Queen Jadis as a means of cementing her rule. Believe it or not, Narnia used to be the most beautiful land in the known world and to be King or Queen of it was considered the highest honour. If you were High King of Narnia, you became Emperor of the Lone Islands and all the surrounding lands and seas of Narnia. We were a nation favoured by Aslan, and as such, we were blessed in abundance. When I was a young kid, I used to dance with the dryads of the forest and the naiads used to come up out of the sea to play with all the animals in the summer time. But every year the winter gets longer and longer, and the summer time lasts only three or four weeks now before the light gives way to darkness, and our world becomes ensconced in the cold again. I hope our kid gets at least one or two stretches of summer before it disappears completely."

There was a pause from the kitchen and Harry looked to see Mrs Tumnus place a hand on a barely noticeable bump in her belly. Harry thought of what it must be like to grow up in a land of interminable winter. Sadly, he was all too familiar with a world of near perpetual night time for the cupboard-under-the-stairs was hardly a well lit room.

There was the slight clatter of ceramic hitting tin and Harry gave an inward prayer of thanks as Mrs Tumnus placed the tea tray full of biscuits, muffins, and tea on a small table near the chairs Tumnus and Harry were occupying. Despite Harry's previous attempts to mind his manners, his hunger won out and he immediately started grabbing at as many biscuits and muffins as he could fit in his fingers. When he finally had eaten enough that he felt he could manage to converse and eat simultaneously, he looked up to see Mr Tumnus smirking at him in amusement and Mrs Tumnus was blushing in what appeared to be pride.

"You are enjoying your food, yes?" she inquired, both her hands pressed lightly against her stomach. Harry could not tell if it was in rapture at his obvious enjoyment of her prepared meal or if her baby was kicking.

"Yes. It's delicious," Harry answered, enunciating as best as he could around the crumbs still lingering on and around his tongue.

"Would you like some tea to wash it down?"

Harry looked at the teapot, decorated as it was with dancing mythical creatures, and could barely contain himself when he answered yes. Now that he had had his fill of food, he was thirsty beyond belief, and the spicy scent of the tea was making his already parched tongue water in anticipation.

When Harry had his tea in his hand, made to his specifications with three cubes of sugar and two dashes of milk, he felt ready to face whatever Narnia had to throw at him.

"Now, young man, we were discussing the land of Narnia. I must ask you, do you understand the significance of where it is you were standing when I found you?"

"No. It was merely where I found myself when I fell here. I must say, when you say the land was _once_ beautiful, I feel the urge to correct you. It still is the most lovely land I've ever seen; it just seems cold - not only in climate, but...it's deeper than that. It looks like the most beautiful, yet heartless, world that I've seen."

"The place you 'fell' into was once the most loved stretch of land in Narnia. People made pilgrimages to it all the way from the outskirts of the Lone Islands, just to glimpse the 'Sacred Metal Tree,' which is what most uneducated persons called it. I'm a scholar of Early Narnia and the First Reign of Plenty, you see, and that land was deemed by Aslan to be Lantern Waste. And it was created by a special metal branch present at the Creation, and was left to be an eternal light to all in Narnia, lighting the way to travelers seeking guidance. This is how the story of the lamp-post was related to the scribes of Narnia by our first King. Sadly, most Narnians have forgotten this story or have written it off as myth in later centuries. Some deny the existence of Aslan entirely."

Harry then understood why the lack of light from the lantern felt wrong to him; it was defying a purpose set to it by what was obviously a highly revered being of the Narnian populace. Harry was pretty confident that dark magic was involved somehow, and he was also sure that somehow this lantern was connected to his way home. After all, the light gave people guidance, according to the story, and...Harry forced his thoughts to stop there. He was not in the mood for another quest on top of the one he, Ron, and Hermione were already working through. Despite his determination to not get wrapped up in the problems apparently plaguing this land of Narnia, he was also equally sure that, when push came to shove, he doubted he would have much choice on whether or not he was involved. Harry somehow knew innately that he had a purpose to serve, and he once again did not like that he understood these things without any real way of knowing *how* he understood them.

"What's the First Reign of Plenty?"

"It was the time when the humans who were here at the Creation - King Frank and Queen Helen - and all their descendants, ruled Narnia. They ruled for about 5 generations before the High King and his Queen were struck with a disease that made it impossible for them to have any heirs. Now, some look at this end of their line as Aslan's will, and others - myself and my wife included - think the White Witch placed a curse on the family. In either case, it was less than ten years later that the woman Jadis (who had been driven into the hills upon the Creation of Narnia) returned to Narnia and this ever growing winter began. And a couple of years ago she banished Father Christmas from ever returning, and ever since then Christmas isn't to be discussed in these parts."

Harry had a sudden burst of guilt jump through his veins and rest at the bottom of his belly. It was only a couple of days before that he, Ron, Percy, and the Weasley twins had been happily opening their gifts. Harry had just had his first real happy Christmas this year, and these people had lost all chance of ever experiencing it again. He could feel himself once again being drawn into the history and troubles of these people, and he felt that familiar desire to help spring forth in him. He had to remind himself that there was only he there to help this time - no Ron or Hermione to assist, and no Dumbledore or Hagrid or McGonagall to offer him guidance and encouragement. It was completely irrational, and he knew that logically there was little he could really do. But the drive and urge to do *something* was there nonetheless. After all, everyone should be able to enjoy Christmas.

Harry glanced around the room as he took in the last part of this tale and finally decided to read the titles of the tomes that Tumnus had been carrying. All of them had deeply scholastic, research-esque titles adorning their binding. Most were theories on the 'myths' and 'legends' of Narnian history such as: _Man: Truth or Myth_, _Queen Jadis and Her Rightful Lineage Under the Kinship Law Given by The First Creations_, _The Stone Table: A Guide to the Deep Magics_, and _Aslan: Creator of Narnia or Creation of Narnia?_ The last title was left on top, and Harry saw that the cover was decorated with a large lion. The lion on the cover, as Harry was looking at it, seemed not only to glimmer much like the lion carved on the looking glass frame had done, but it also seemed to move, as though it were walking across the cover but gaining no ground. As it had back in Hogwarts, it stared Harry right in the eyes, golden brown feline eyes meeting human green orbs, and as before, it roared loudly. Harry fought the urge to cover his ears even though he felt his eardrums would bust. The roar was inspiring, encouraging and seemed to say to Harry, "Listen to this man. His words are important. Do what you know you must do," and they also terrified Harry's eleven year old heart.

Harry knew then that somehow his being in Narnia was directly related to this lion, but he had only one more question he needed answered first. He was fairly certain he already knew what the answer would be.

"Is this Aslan you keep mentioning - the Creator of Narnia - is he a lion?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Tumnus. "What else would a Creator and Guardian of the Wood be?"

Harry took a few more sips of his tea, which had cooled considerably during his conversation with Tumnus and was beginning to get that slightly disgusting milk coating flavour, so he gulped it down quickly.

"How did you know he was a lion?" asked Mrs Tumnus. Harry looked at the cover of the book before him with the intention of gesticulating towards it, only to see there was no lion on the cover at all. It looked as though Harry would have to be completely honest now. At this point, it didn't really matter, for his story no longer sounded as implausible as it would have previous to Tumnus' abridged history of Narnia.

"He's what I saw before I fell through the mirror that brought me here. And it was odd because I was terrified of him even though I had never felt as safe with a wild beast in my life. And what was even odder was that I felt safe when I came across him in a place where such things don't just randomly appear like that...well, not without a few well chosen words anyway."

Tumnus and his wife were staring at Harry in silent awe, and for once, Harry doubted it had anything to do with his appearance or mannerisms.

"What?" he questioned.

"You've seen Aslan? He actually appeared to you?" Tumnus inquired, his eyes wide and his pipe sitting on his knee, apparently long forgotten. "Why, that is most unprecedented. Not since the early days of Narnia have people ever seen him, and most people doubt those stories now, as I said. What did he do when you saw him?"

"He just stared at me mostly," said Harry. "I was worried that he would eat me or something at first, but he never made any motion toward me. He just stared at me, and then when he roared, I panicked and fell."

"He actually roared, and you didn't die? You must have found favour with him, my boy! Why, you're practically a hero to us Narnians already!"

"Why? What does it mean if he roared?"

"It means you have a purpose, dear Harry. What a glorious day this is for us, dear wife! If you were chosen by Aslan and you found us first, why we must be chosen in some way too. And no one just *sees* Aslan or is simply chosen by Him. He has something for you to do, and he obviously intends me to help in some way."

"By the horns on both our heads, do get a hold of yourself, dear husband!" offered up Mrs Tumnus, breaking her long silence. "We don't know what Aslan wants at all yet. Don't let your hooves get ahead of your horns. Maybe the newcomer has some idea of why Aslan brought him here."

They both looked questioningly at Harry, but Harry was drawing a long blank. Strangely, he felt that if only he could think of it for a few minutes, he would figure it out. He merely needed to put the pieces together. All he really knew was that he hoped the plan wasn't for him to overthrow Queen Jadis, or the White Witch as he knew Tumnus thought her to be. After all, he was merely eleven and it just sounded...tiring and like it was too much to ask of one boy. Something told him that the journey those thoughts led him toward were for someone more important than he. No, he could feel in his bones that his mission was important, but not of that size. Something smaller, but just as important. But he couldn't think for the life of him what it could be.

"I have no idea," Harry answered truthfully. "I don't even know where to start..." Harry felt that blinding hopelessness seep in again, and was beginning to think that the feeling was directly associated with the enchantment encompassing the land, and had nothing to do with his real temperament at all.

"Well, I guess we shall just have to keep an eye and ear open for Aslan. I know he's brought you here for some reason, dear boy. And I think you can feel it too. We shall have to hope he makes that purpose known sooner rather than later."

Tumnus leant back in his chair, and Harry did the same. Mrs Tumnus went back to pouring them all some fresh tea, and a contemplative silence ruled the tiny household for many hours afterward.


End file.
